


Before and After

by hudson



Series: Season 1 PWPs [2]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gap Filler, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hudson/pseuds/hudson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could be a second part of The In-Between, could be just another slashy interlude that takes place during the beginning of Ep. 15, it's up to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before and After

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal 4-1-2006.

**Title:** Before and After  
 **Fandom:** Prison Break  
 **Characters:** Michael/Lincoln (slash)   
**Prompt:** 034: Not Enough  
 **Word Count:** 1,661  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Summary:** Hmm... Could be a second part of [The In-Between](http://mooyoo.livejournal.com/31600.html), could be just another slashy interlude that takes place during the beginning of Ep. 15, it's up to you.   
**Disclaimer:** Paul Scheuring and a whole lot of other people who aren’t me own _Prison Break._  
-

All he wants, more than anything else in this one moment, is to raise his arms. He’s not thinking about life or death or prison or Dad or innocence or justice, just about how unbearable it is to have his brother so close, right here _against_ him, and not be able to really touch him. He wants to pick his arms up and crush Michael against him and breathe him in and hold on forever, and just let them pry the two of them apart if he had the chance.

The closest he can come to wrapping his arms around Michael is a brush of his fingertips against Michael’s hand, and it makes him groan into their kiss. He needs, needs, _needs_ to get _closer,_ needs to put his hands and his body on Michael, but the chains are unforgiving and won’t spare an inch no matter how desperately he wishes it in his head.

He sweeps his tongue across Michael’s one last time before pulling back slightly, the decision made. He breathes heavily and feels Michael doing the same against him, hot air coming in short puffs against his closed eyelids, and he’d love this moment if he didn’t hate it so much.

“Stand up,” he whispers without opening his eyes.

“What?” Michael questions softly, and Lincoln can just hear the puzzled expression forming on his brother’s face. “Lincoln, I – ”

“Stand. Up.” Lincoln’s voice leaves no room for dissent, and he spares only the briefest thought for the fact that he’s speaking like he’s lecturing Michael, like he’s lecturing his _little brother,_ and _ohgodI’msick,_ but the thought doesn’t even have the chance to make him pause as he usually does, before he feels Michael’s hand on his face and nothing else matters except being able to touch him back.

Michael finally does as he’s told and Lincoln doesn’t hesitate in sliding to the floor in front of him. He hears his brother inhale sharply and he’s sure that before he would’ve grinned wolfishly at Michael’s reaction, maybe would’ve even taken some pride in the power he could hold over his brother from this position.

But that was _before,_ and he’d never even get on his knees for anyone _before._ He’s dead now, or as good as, and _he can’t even move his arms,_ and his brother is still so desperately, pathetically, awfully clinging to the idea that _we have more time_ and _I can save you._

So he gives Michael what he can because there’s nothing else of him left and he can’t even reach out for his brother.

He leans forward and rests his head against Michael, digging his nose into the harsh, starchy fabric of his pants and rubbing briefly against his groin. He breathes in and for just a moment he thinks that he might actually be alive when he smells _Michael._

“Take it out,” he murmurs into Michael’s pants and looks up at his brother’s face, already flushed with arousal, to let Michael know that there’s no argument on this.

Michael opens his mouth like he’s going to protest again, and Lincoln bites him sharply, sinking his teeth into those pants and the warm flesh beneath. Michael gives a small yelp of surprise and his body rocks forward briefly, into Lincoln’s, before he takes a short step back.

“Do what I say,” Lincoln growls out, trying to assert some control over this situation even though he’s the one bound and kneeling on the floor.

Michael swallows and reaches down to undo the button and zipper on his pants, and he must realize as Lincoln does that the clock is ticking – Lincoln can see the big, old, Death Chamber clock ticking his life away – because he hurriedly pulls out his semi-erect cock and begins stroking it quickly. Lincoln tugs harshly at his cuffs, tries again to pull them up and slap Michael’s hand away, but succeeds only in rustling the chains and searing his wrists with the strain.

So he leans in and brushes against Michael’s hand with his nose, tries to push it away with his head. He feels vaguely like a dog, unable to do anything but move his head against Michael, and for the first time in days he feels something other than dread and numbness. He takes it out on his brother, bites Michael’s fingers angrily, and yanks the hand away from his cock. They’ve locked him up, taken everything, _every-fucking-thing_ away from him, for _nothing_ because _he didn’t fucking do it,_ and he’s furious, but he only has the energy for it for a moment before he goes back to being dead.

He closes his eyes, not completely sure how to do this, but his brother’s hand falls heavily onto his head and prompts him to lean forward and lick wetly up one side of Michael’s dick, coaxing it to harden fully. Michael sighs heavily and Lincoln glances up to see that his eyes are closed.

Lincoln lifts his head slightly, licking at the trail of hairs lining Michael’s stomach and knowing that there’ll be no more argument. He moves back down to spare just one more moment to rub his nose along Michael’s hipbone, knowing in the back of his mind that he’d be doing more of this, more tracing and mapping with his mouth, if this was _before._

But it’s not, and Michael will be taken away soon, and then he’ll be taken away, and then he really will be nothing, so he sets to work, bringing his mouth up to cover the head of Michael’s cock.

Michael gasps, loudly, and his free hand flies up to Lincoln’s head, both now grasping Lincoln hard. Lincoln assumes it’s the shock of this and doesn’t worry too much about his own lack of experience or lack of finesse because Michael seems okay with things so far.

He sucks lightly, just for a second, listens to Michael whimper, and opens his mouth wider to take more in, moving his head down as far as he can before he feels the urge to gag, and pulls back up. Michael shudders and presses against him, and again Lincoln tugs his arms, as if he hasn’t been trained out of the habit of free movement after all these years locked up. If he could, he’d wrap his arms around Michael, press his fingers into Michael’s legs, feel the muscles jump and tense and strain.

But all he can do is tighten his lips and press his head down again, stroking the underside of Michael’s cock lightly with his tongue and grazing gently with his teeth on the way back up. Michael stifles a groan and his fingers clench on top of Lincoln’s head, and Lincoln starts moving faster, awkwardly bobbing up and down and becoming more and more used to the feeling of Michael, _Michael,_ inside his mouth.

“Lincoln,” Michael lets out finally, and Lincoln pauses to look up at him, flicking his tongue quickly across the end of Michael’s erection to make his brother whine slightly and rock forward. Michael’s cheeks puff out as he pants, chest heaving erratically, and for just a moment while Lincoln stares up at his brother, heavy, hard, hot cock resting in his mouth, he feels like he’s alive.

Michael says Lincoln’s name again, followed quickly by a strangled groan as Lincoln hollows his cheeks and sucks hard, moving down quickly and pressing again with his tongue. He lets Michael move his hips, because there’s really nothing he can do about it, and knows that it’s probably just the fact that he’s close that allows him to lose control and thrust harshly into Lincoln’s mouth.

And maybe Michaels’s angry too, Lincoln thinks briefly as he feels the stiff cock slide against his tongue and a few sharp drops of semen hit the back of his throat; Michael was there too last night, watched that clock tick away Lincoln’s life, and he’s going to be locked up in here long after Lincoln’s really, actually, completely gone, and maybe he’s taking that out on Lincoln’s willing body – or willing mouth, anyway.

Michael starts to shake, fingers scrabbling at Lincoln’s head, and Lincoln’s sure that if he had any hair left, Michael’s hands would be twisted up in it. His hips are moving faster, and finally Lincoln just sits back and takes it, and it’s only a minute or so more – the clock is still ticking away in his head – before Michael’s cock is twitching against the roof of his mouth and he’s coming.

Lincoln wants to pull back, but he’s afraid of the mess they’ll make if he does, so he lets Michael empty himself in his mouth and tries not to jump at the shock of it sliding down his throat.

Michael grunts and puffs and one of his hands falls to the side of Lincoln’s head, absently covering an ear as he continues to pump his hips, moaning slightly through his orgasm. Finally, when he’s shaky and spent, Michael pulls away from Lincoln’s mouth and slides to the floor in front of his brother.

“I, um – ” Lincoln starts, throat scratchy, and he licks his lips quickly, ready to say something but not sure exactly what, when Michael cuts him off.

He grabs Lincoln by the neck and pulls him forward roughly, kissing him hard. Michael tilts his head and runs his tongue against Lincoln’s closed mouth before Lincoln opens it slightly and both of them groan, and then Michael has to pull his mouth away to breathe. He whispers things that Lincoln can only vaguely hear, saying again that _we still have time_ and _I’m going to get you out of here,_ and for once Lincoln lets him talk; at least one of them can have some hope for a little while longer.

Lincoln reaches again for his brother, and finds Michael’s hand within reach. He grabs on and tightens his fingers around Michael’s, and he almost feels alive.

 **-end-**


End file.
